As Far As It Goes
by Footprints
Summary: Two unlikely people meet in a graveyard. Does she have a chance of escaping? Or will he kill her himself?


As Far As It Goes

By Water/Air  
  
I don't own CB. Dialogue taken from the series/movie isn't 100% accurate but close enough.

--  
  
He had died with his memories...  
  
When he had finally gained his memories...  
  
Only in life could such a cruel thing happen. He had died when he realized that he was in love. He died when he had found the thing which made him happy. So was it right to say that he died in peace? Or that he died in his prime?  
  
Standing over a grave in the Martian rain, looking down on his memories; was it supposed to make her feel like he was at rest? She realized that his death was supposed to make her feel at peace but instead she felt something else. Like it wasn't the end. She felt like something was beginning again.  
  
She felt like she had accomplished nothing, but she didn't know why. He was dead, the threat was gone. So why wasn't it over yet?

Recently, she had been glancing over her shoulders, paranoid of people following her. But who would follow her?  
  
The Police?  
  
The Hunters?  
  
The Army?  
  
Her nerves had been on overdrive lately and the stress had been enormous and she still didn't know why. Deep down, beyond the rational thought and memories, her instinct was telling her that she was being followed.  
  
At first, she had tried to suppress it but then she saw things that made her suspect. Shadows in her office at night that weren't supposed to be there. Sounds in her apartment. One day, she even found the lock broken. She had called the ISSP and they said that nothing was stolen so it was probably just an accident.  
  
She didn't buy it one bit...  
  
She knew how to fight, but that didn't matter if the enemy wouldn't show themselves. People didn't fight much in these days anyway. People used guns and ranged weapons. She may have been a great fighter but she knew that she couldn't dodge bullets.  
  
She ran her fingers over her shoulder, feeling the scar, the remainder of the wounds. It had only taken a little bit to heal but she swore that she could still feel the bullet sometimes. It was more of an emotional wound than a physical wound. To anyone besides her, that would have sounded crazy. Maybe she was crazy. Crazy for being so paranoid.  
  
She had originally thought that she had moved on from the particular incident but the past came back in the weirdest times. That was one thing that she couldn't run away from...  
  
The past...  
  
She didn't want to run away from the past but every time she tried to confront it, she ended up running away. If she had gotten over the past, she wouldn't have to run. She wouldn't have to run back to the graves, his grave. The name on stone was what she remembered of him now.  
  
She couldn't remember his face anymore.  
  
But did it really matter anyway? Was his face as important as his actions? She didn't really know how to answer, or what to think anymore. Everything that she thought was clear had been twisted around until she couldn't even identify it anymore. Now, more than ever, she felt alone. Not because her lover wouldn't remember her, but because he wasn't there. Any chance he had of remembering, she had ended. She had pulled the trigger. She had killed him. She had to walk the path alone.  
  
_A true cowboy must always live alone, living his life on the edge. A lonely life..._  
  
She tried to remember where she had heard it before. Maybe it was from one of her relatives or those bounty hunters. She honestly couldn't place the phrase but that was how she was feeling at the moment.  
  
Alone...  
  
On the edge...  
  
Lonely...  
  
Thoughts of suicide had crossed her mind more than she could count be she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't be that weak. She knew that the only way to live was to live strong. To take on everything and make it through! That was what she had been taught her whole life.  
  
But did being strong enough.... did it make her happy?  
  
The ultimate question. To be happy or to be alive? Such questions were beyond her comprehension. She had never learned what to do if you were happier dead than alive. It always seemed stupid. She always questioned it, asking why anyone would want to die. Then, she didn't know how cruel life was. Now...  
  
Well, that was a different story...  
  
She looked down upon his bare grave, which was only marked with a tombstone. She had suddenly wished that she had brought flowers. She didn't want his grave to look like it did. She wanted to fill it with something. Something that showed that he always lived beyond the others who would live. In a world of his own. A true pioneer.  
  
Flowers...  
  
She watched as the bouquet of flowers fell onto the muddy dirt of the grave. They were small and yellow shaped like something that she had seen every day of her life. Something that she would never forget.  
  
Butterflies...  
  
It took only a moment to realize that she had not dropped the bouquet. She wanted to turn around but then grew afraid of what was awaiting behind her. Maybe, just maybe, her instincts had been right. Maybe she had been followed. Maybe...  
  
"A man who lived in dreams..." a deep voice said behind her. The voice filled with amusement and coldness at the same time. "I know a man who dreams...." he said again. She didn't turn though, she didn't want to see. "They should wake up, don't you agree, Ms. Ovilo?"  
  
Her eyes went wide. _How does he know who I am?_ She had changed her name after the incident because of Cherious Medical. No one knew her real name anymore, except for the bounty hunters...  
  
She turned sharply to see a man standing, dressed in all black. A black overcoat, with black pants, and a black jacket underneath. A grey undershirt rested beneath that with a black tie. He stood taller than her, even if she had stood up. She realized that she didn't even know this person and that he definitely wasn't with Cherious.  
  
"W-who are you?" she asked, trying to make her voice as strong as possible.  
  
"A watcher."  
  
"My guardian angel, huh?" she asked sarcastically.  
  
"More like a fallen one..."  
  
She stood watching him with a cold look upon her face. She was angry but she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing it. If worse came to worse, she knew how to fight or use a gun. She was confident enough that she could draw before he did.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked.  
  
"A warning," he said in an equally cold voice.  
  
"A warning?"  
  
He smiled. "The leaders of the Red Dragons are cowards. They don't want war, just struggle. They want you."  
  
Electra wasn't sure that she understood. The Red Dragons? The crime syndicate? What the hell did they want with her? "I don't comprehend."  
  
"Oh rather... they want that gift inside of you. That one that you can suppress... but can't rid yourself of," he said.  
  
Electra's eyes almost widened. _The virus?!_  
  
The man smiled at her surprise. "Yes, that gift. Or that curse. Tell me, Ms. Ovilo, do the butterflies calm you down?"  
  
Before he had finished the sentence, Electra spun around, gun in hand. As she put it to his throat, she heard a crow squawk in the distance. She knew then that she had got him. Nothing to fear but fear itself. She told herself. She turned back to him and saw that his expression had not changed.  
  
Then she felt something at her throat. Her eyes darted to see a shiny katana being held directly in front of her throat, ready to slice at any moment. Electra knew that the katana would be slower than a gun but she didn't know how fast its user was. She looked back up to see his eyes.  
  
His pupils were small and held something that qualified as experience or exhaustion. From this, Electra concluded that the user was a very good fighter. It was only a second later before she picked up something else in his eyes. Like they were masking something. Then she saw it...  
  
Sadism... Deep sadism. This man had killed plenty people and enjoyed every single death. He had the eyes of a barbarian. They almost looked... primal.  
  
For once, Electra was frightened. She had never seen eyes so focused on life and death at the same time. Almost like he admired the beauty of life but loved the art of killing. It was a rarity that Electra would ever meet such a person. She didn't even know that people like him still existed. For once, Electra didn't know what he was going to do and that scared her. She had been able to read her opponents well enough before because they had all fell into a category of person. Spike was attracted her, and didn't look like he would kill for no reason so she knew that he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.  
  
She knew that deep down, Vincent remembered her. So she wasn't afraid of him either. Just worried. But with this man, it was very different.  
  
This was unknown fear. One that even the most fearless person fell to. The fear of meeting something or someone that you didn't know how to deal with. That was this person, who was currently holding a blade to her throat. At least she had equalized the situation by putting a gun to his throat.  
  
Then, he did something that she didn't expect of him: he smiled. Not a happy smile but more of a suspicious smile, the sadistic smile.  
  
The smile of a madman.  
  
"You are the second person to catch me in a draw," he said.  
  
Electra gritted her teeth. "Am I supposed to feel honored?" she asked, coldly.  
  
His smile remained, amusement danced in his eyes. "Hardly. I make sure to kill those who think that they can match me."  
  
Electra blocked out the fear clouding her mind at moment and cocked the gun. The man pushed his sword, spilling a few drops of blood but ceasing from slitting her throat. Electra looked at him with determination, she would win this.  
  
"You're trembling..." he said. Electra looked surprised, she hadn't even realized it. She tried to stop her hands from jittering but she couldn't. Her legs weren't doing her much good either. "You are filled with a fear of your own survival. The fear that exists in every being. The fear that causes us to kill like wild beasts..."  
  
"S-stop!" Electra shouted, she didn't need to hear this.  
  
"We all have this blood coursing through our veins. The blood that defines our very existence. Our purpose to survive by death," he said, his eyes growing more sadistic with every word.  
  
Electra couldn't take it anymore. "That philosophy is twisted!" she managed to say in hoarse voice.  
  
His eyes seemed to focus back on her. "When did humanity care more about intangibles than survival? If you must choose between your love or your life... which do you pick?" he asked.

The big question; the one she had been avoiding. Which one to choose? Would she live without live or love without living? That was her choice. That was how the world had set her up: to choose between happiness and being alive. No one wanted to die, but only a masochist would live without happiness.  
  
She thought of life where she could live with Vincent. Where they wouldn't have to worry about Cherious Medical or memories. Where they could just be happy. Such a life didn't exist while she was alive.  
  
_When I was young, I wasn't afraid of anything. If I was going to die, then I would say: whatever and move along. Then I met a woman and for the first time, I was truly afraid to die...  
_  
She wet her lips with her tongue and spoke: "We aren't afraid to die until we meet someone who reminds us that we are truly alive..."  
  
The sound of rain hitting the ground overwhelmed the scene as silence fell between the two people. They stood with their weapons pointed at each other. One pondered, one waited.  
  
Minutes passed as Electra looked up into the eyes of the man and saw that he was somewhere else. Imagining something or remembering something, like what she just said was important.  
  
Then, almost instantly, the blade was gone from her throat and lowered to the man's side. He sheathed it slowly, not paying attention to the piece pointed at his throat. "The Dragons will make their move soon. I suggest that you leave..." he said as he stepped away from Electra.  
  
She saw him in full picture now. Wearing all black, with a sword at his side, she saw his deathly pale colored hair and the bags under his wary eyes. He was a man who lived in the shadow of death, always straying away from life. A man who had at one point, experienced life and was betrayed by it.  
  
"Who are you?" Electra asked, making him stop in his tracks. A crow landed on his shoulder.  
  
He turned, looking at her with a cold look on his face. "Vicious..." Then he had disappeared into the rain.

--  
  
As the aircraft took off for a destination unknown to anyone but Electra, she looked down upon the planet Mars. She had grown up there, met Vincent there, stopped Vincent there, and now she was leaving. She didn't think she would ever come back; nothing was waiting for her anyway. She just wanted to go somewhere where she could disappear. To get away from the rush of Mars. All the corruption and loss of morals. She was thinking of going somewhere far off, somewhere where no one would find her. That would be her ideal place.  
  
Somewhere where she could forget about philosophy. Somewhere where she could forget about the death of Vincent, Spike, and the others who had died.  
  
She had heard that the Neo-Red Dragons invaded her apartment later and found nothing. She had left by then. She silently thanked the man at graveyard, Vicious. But she still wondered about him. About where he would exist, peacefully. Or maybe, he was better off dead.  
  
Electra didn't know about it though. Such a person was beyond her ability to understand.  
  
She looked back at Mars, which was glowing with its own energy. This would be the last time she saw it. Then she looked forward, the stars were vast and welcoming. She knew that she would find a place for herself.  
  
_It will take some time. But we can all live peacefully...  
_

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TO THE END OF THE LINE... 


End file.
